


Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?

by gaytriangle



Series: My True Love Gave To Me... [12]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (?), Canon Compliant, Character Study, Elemental Magic, Gen, Narrative, ish, this is what day twelve of a writing challenge gets you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 15:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaytriangle/pseuds/gaytriangle
Summary: In the time between the Tourney at Harrenhal and the War for the Dawn, there were four powerful queens that most histories will not remember kindly. Let this one be an exception.An introduction to a book by Archmaester Alleras.





	Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?

Westeros has known many, many queens, but in recent years four powerful, beautiful women have held onto crowns to control their own destinies. Let’s tell their stories. 

Tell the story of Lyanna Stark, an airy would-be queen whos crown blew onto her lap in a circlet of winter roses. Oh yes, she could howl like the winds of winter when she wished too. Nothing could hold Lyanna if she wished to break free. Dear Robert should have known that you’d have better luck holding back the tides than you would clutching onto the air. The wind has no concept of consequences, of the tears wept in the aftermath of storms. 

But Lyanna was too puffed up with hot air. She did great things, good things, with a laughing tree shield and bravado on her breath, but winds die down. She could hold onto her crown for only a fleeting moment before the drums of war beat it out of her hand. Air is the easiest element to choke out of existence. 

The crown of fire can be claimed by two hands: the two would be loves of Rhaegar Targaryen. Elia burned with the fires of Dornish sunset and motherly love, but she was never meant to hold onto the crown. It burned its way through her before flickering out, taking her children with her. How different the world would have been if she had hissed or spat or harnessed her flames. Instead, she went up in ashes and Cersei Lannister burnt herself to blisters clasping onto the crown. 

It cannot be denied that she fits the silhouette of queen of the flames all too well, this golden lioness. Cersei is sweltering heat, absolutely unstoppable. You cannot reason with fire. She wants Jaime, so she crackles and sings until she can burn right through him. She burns through the people she hates and loves in equal measure, absolutely uncaring on what she leaves behind. Her colours are gold and red, and her mind is bathed in them. Along with a telltale green madness. 

How fitting, that the uncontrollable fire would find a master with an uncontrollable mind. Cersei loves her children, loves her power, but it will never be enough. The fires are never satisfied until they’re dead, and Cersei hates to learn from her own mistakes. Flames are their own worst enemy. It’s all too easy to lose track, to burn through all your fuel and trap yourself in all that you’ve already destroyed. Call the drums of war, lioness, and call your fires too, but to no avail. The fire will consume Cersei, and she won’t even last long enough to be queen of the ashes. 

If she is not queen of fire and blood, who is Daenerys Targaryen? She is the stormborn, of course: the monarch of the waves. Despite her chosen weapons, she herself is a weapon of water. Water does not change its course, nor it’s nature. Nothing can stop a river on its quest to the sea, and nothing can stop the Mother of Dragons on her quest to feed her children on food and drink or on fire and blood. The water is a nurturer, a caring healer, impossible to leave behind or live without. Daenerys is a fact of life and a facet of nature, moreso than any other queen, but she’s easy to leave aside or forget when one focuses on only Westeros. She bangs the drums of war like the others, but not loud enough. She is in the shadow of Viserys, of Rhaegar, of Jon, for far too long. 

We forget that water is a killer. It seeps into places it was never meant to be, it crashes into sailors and drags them into its depths to make pretty statues for the mermaids. This is the force that will break the strongest of chains, given enough time. The watery queen darts about like a fresh spring at times, but all springs lead to the ocean. If there is no one waiting on the shore to catch her, Daenerys will drown, in spite of her fire and blood. 

The queen of earth casts a sharp contrast. Earth is steady, and Margaery Tyrell is the only force of nature that is shaped in the form of what could be a classic queen. She certainly casts a classic shadow of queenly beauty. She can halt the drums of war, at least for a time. She’s the grounding force holding Kings Landing together in the reign of King Tommen, and she’s not above pruning the bad flowers from her garden. She moves about with bark brown hair and grass green gowns, but do not be fooled: Earth is not an element of life. 

Earth is an element that shakes because it wants to shake, to see what happens. There is a darkness in this queens soul and a poison in her roots. Margaery cares for the small, innocent flowers, but only because she knows that their blooms will be of use to her. She prunes the bad flowers, but overpruning is a curse among the steadiest of gardeners. She is not as steady as she thinks she is. 

Westeros has had powerful queens, has had desperate queens, and queens that were forces of nature in their own right. What a pity that they’ll always live in someone else’s shadow.

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe this challenge is over, or that I’m ending it on this. Well. I appreciate these ladies too much for it to be any other way, I guess. The constant reference to the drums of war, aside from being the original title, is also to fill my prompt for today (“drummers drumming”), which was a whole different fic before I got distracted. Happy holidays!


End file.
